


It Must Be Nice To Have Fate On Your Side

by Hunting In The East Lands (easternCriminal)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: AU, Gen, Modern, Reincarnation, Reincarnation AU, Setting, mostly focuses on friend relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6362620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easternCriminal/pseuds/Hunting%20In%20The%20East%20Lands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are perhaps few things that are more awkward than realizing that you have lived a previous life, as best friend to one of the founding fathers no less, and then also realizing that currently you are the only one that seems to remember.</p><p>or</p><p>And all he had to do was die</p><p>-well that's a lot less work</p><p>we outta give it a try</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Showtime

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, well, this is a reincarnation au, and I hope you all enjoy it! I have to warn you, some of the characters might seems a little ooc. Most of what I know about the characters is from just listening from the soundtrack, and so for some characters it's hard for me to get a good grasp on them *coughlaurenscough* so you have been warned

                Alexander Jameson moved down the familiar streets, brow furrowed and brain going a million miles per second. An English paper due next week… but how to go about it? Too many people would probably turn in half worked on sheets about Les Miserables, but he really wanted his be able to capture the feel of the story. He would prefer to focus on the Javert and his inner turmoil, but just sticking to one character seemed far too plain, especially one like Javert that everyone had heard others go on about at least half a million times.

                It was in this frame of mind – only focusing around him enough to ensure that his legs continued to make him go forward – the he felt himself ram into another. He was thrown slightly off balance, and was thankful that all of his papers were in his shoulder bag otherwise they would be scattered all over the sidewalk, but the person who had run into was far less lucky as he heard them hit the floor.

                Alexander took a quick second to steady himself and then turned to the other.

                “Oh, hey, I am so sorry. Just kind of lost in thought.” He bent down and extended his hand to the man, a boy about his age, his face splattered with freckles and curly hair pulled out of his face in a ponytail that appeared to defy the laws of physics.

                “Oh, no, I’m sorry, it’s my…” The boy had started to reach out to grab his hand when his voice suddenly faded off. “…fault.” His eyes trained on Alexander’s face, in an almost creepy way, as if analyzing every detail… or sizing up every part of his face. The boy ended up getting up on his own, forgetting Alexander’s stretched out hand completely and dusted himself up, picking up a book he had dropped.

                “Are you okay? That was quite the fall you had.” He fidgeted with the strap of his bag as the man continued to gaze at him. The more Alexander looked at that face, the more familiar it began to appear. The less haphazard the freckles seemed, the just-barely-beginning-to-show crinkles in corners of his eyes from smiling so much looked just right.

                He opened his mouth as if to say something, his lips just beginning to form words, and then stopped. “I’m fine… my names John.” This time he was the one to stretch out his hand, and Alexander gladly took it. The name John seemed to fit together with that face perfectly.

                “Alexander Jameson.” He could feel John flinch, like just saying his name had done the boy harm. “I haven’t seen you around the campus, then again I obviously don’t notice my surrounding much.”

                “It might be because I don’t actually live on campus, I share an apartment with one of my friends a few blocks away.” Alexander glanced at the book in John’s arm, 1776 by David McCullough, looking all scuffed up after it’s rather unfortunate fall to the ground.

                “Are you busy? I could buy you a cup of coffee or something, make up for any skinned hands and dirty pages I may have caused.”

                “That’s really not necessary,” John replied, avoiding his gaze. “…and I’m sure the books’ fine. One of my professors’ loaned it to me and he said that it has made it through many students rowdier than myself.”

                “Books and writing are what form lives, the utensil used to strengthen ideals and bring forth ideas. Besides, I really don’t have anything better to do with my day.”

               oOo

                John made good conversation. He still wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do with his life, pretty much deciding to just try out different things for his first few years of college until he found a place where he felt like he really fit in. He had grown up in South Carolina, his roommate was incredibly loud rowdy (and apparently John could be equally as bold at times, especially if he had a little bit of anything alcoholic in his veins to loosen him up).

                Talking to him was… weird. John continually changed the way he spoke. He started out very polite and cordial, as anyone would be when talking to a near stranger, but every now and then he would slip into a kind of familiar speech, more comfortable, and his carefully tensed up shoulders would begin to loosen up before he caught himself. And then, almost in between words, he would begin to speak like someone from ages ago, but within syllables he would revert back to a regular speech pattern.

                They just sat and talked for who knows how long, and as the sun continued its’ descent in the sky both John and Alexander realized they had probably been at this for far too long, but it just felt too much like catching up with an old friend you hadn’t seen in decades.

                “What time is it?” John asked, and those four words seemed to consume all of Alexander’s thoughts. It wasn’t even an unusual sentence, but something about those words with that voice matched with the face… it tickled at his memory, but there was just simply nothing there that fit. He could almost smell the beer, hear the commotion of a bustling city, but then – “I told Hercules I’d be there to help him with his project tonight.” And then the moment was gone.

                “Oh! Um,” He glanced down at his watch. “…it’s around 5:30.” John shot up out of chair.

                “Aw crap, he’s gonna kill me.” He grabbed his book and tossed out his empty cup. “Thanks for the coffee Ham- Alexander. “ He paused, turned to walk away from their small table, and he could feel the inner war radiating off the man, before he finally turned back to face Alexander. “Let me see your notebook.”

                Wordlessly Alexander reached into his shoulder bag and brought out his journal, John took a pencil out of one of his pockets and scribbled something in the cover before handing it back.

                “I hope we see each other again soon Alexander.” He raced out of the coffee shop, and just as Alexander looked at the message written down in vaguely familiar writing did he begin to wonder why John would assume he kept a notebook on him. John had left a phone number with his name next to it, a second one with the name Hercules next it (presumably his roommate), and an address. A smile crept up on Alexanders face.


	2. The story of today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> midnight texting, teachers, and roommates

Alexander wakes up with smoke in his lungs and screaming in his ears, but by the time he turns to check his alarm clock it has faded from his memory, in that strange way dreams do. Sleep has been coming with gradually more difficult recently, but at least he put his waking hours to good use.

                Alexander turns on his light, and he’s not surprised that he doesn’t even feel that tired. Waking up had been sudden and adrenaline filled, and even now his hands were still shaking slightly. He grabbed his laptop and turned his thoughts to his essay. Using his words to craft a place far away from here, and he felt himself begin to calm down again, the only thing causing him to pause in his typing being a small buzz from his phone.

                **John: hi**

                He couldn’t help but to smile as he typed a response. They had been exchanging texts for about a week or so, though they had yet to find a moment where they both had enough time to meet face to face, and Alexander was hesitant to try and text Hercules since he didn’t really know John’s roommate at all.

                **Alexander: You’re up early.**

**John: oh, sorry, did I wake you up?**

**Alexander: Not at all, I was just working on an essay for one of my classes. What are you up to?**

**John: nothing really. just couldn’t sleep.**

**Alexander: Me either. I’ve been having a hard time recently.**

**John: well, you’re not alone. sorry if I’m bugging you, I find it easiest to deal with waking up around one in the morning if you talk to someone**

**Alexander: Does Hercules not like being woken up?**

**John: naw, if anything he gets even less sleep than I do. he does most of his schooling during the day and works for most of the night.**

**Alexander: What are you doing tomorrow?**

**John: not much, my only classes are in the morning.**

**Alexander: We should try to meet up. What’s your roommate doing?**

**John: i’m not sure, I’ll ask him when he gets home, but I don’t think he’s doing anything**

**Alexander: Cool. We could have coffee together or something.**

**John: sounds like a plan**

Alexander couldn’t help the smile that came upon his face. It would be nice to see John again, and Hercules sounded like a nice enough guy. It didn’t take long for Alexander to finally admit to himself that he should probably try and get some shut eye before his classes – he couldn’t risk falling asleep in class again and falling behind.

 

                Perhaps one of Alexanders favorite classes was his US History class, taught by the Professor George Custis. A fairly amicable man with a deep love for the United States, teaching, politics, and one of the few professors that actually seemed to care about his students and insuring that they learned. He was one of those teachers that was firm in having a first name basis relationship with everyone.

                Today, however, Alexander was having a rather difficult time focusing on his teacher, his mind instead rebelling and thinking about meeting up with John and his roommate after class. As soon as the period ended he was up and of his seat, on his way towards the door, but was stopped as his name was called across the room.

                “Alexander!” He turned to see the Professor looking intently in his direction, and with a small internal sigh, but deciding it would be okay if he was a few minutes late to his meet up, approached George.

                “What is it sir?” The formal word spilled out of his mouth involuntarily, just like it usually did around the man.

                “You’re extremely bright, I’ve been thinking… do you have any interest in pursuing history?” Alexander shrugged.

                “To be honest I’m still trying to decide what to do with my life, I’m leaning towards law though.” George nodded at that. “Although I must say I really do enjoy history.”

                “…” George was quiet for a moment, looking intently at Alexander. “…I’m sorry to change the subject, but… have we met before?” Alexander raised an eyebrow.

                “I should hope so, sir, I do take this class every other day.”

                “No, I mean besides that…” He waved his hands. “You know what, never mind. I’ve had a headache all day. That’s all I needed. I’ll see you tomorrow. Well, not tomorrow, next time we have class. Friday. I’ll see you on Friday.” He waved Alexander away, he hurried off, hoping that John hadn’t been waiting for him for too long.

                “Do you think maybe he decided not to come?” John asked his roommate, who rolled his eyes.

                “Nah, man, I’m sure he’s just busy.”

                “I’m sorry Mulligan, it’s just. What if he thought we were meeting _next_ Wednesday?” Another eyes roll.

                “Sanders. My last name is Sanders. My first name is Hercules. I honestly have no idea where you keep getting the idea that my name is Mulligan.”

                “Right.” Honestly, somedays he thought it would be better if it hadn’t turned out that such an old friend was his roommate. It made it all that harder not to slip up. At least Hercules had stopped asking him about his small screw ups a long time ago, hopefully just chalking it up to stress from school or from his parents.

                The fact that Alexander was late for their meet up wasn’t helping at all. On one hand he grew up in the 21st century  with social change and unrest brewing, on the other hand he could perfectly remember his own death, seeing his own blood pour out of him. He could remember hard worn faces and smiles and laughs in the bleakest of moments.

                At this point, he was just hoping to get one of his best friends back into his life. Smoohtly. Without making a fool of himself. He didn’t even know if anyone else would ever remember anything, with his luck they probably wouldn’t. It was just such inner turmoil. Because there was a part of him where his heart would flutter at the mere thought of Alexander… but Alexander was also technically married and technically had eight kids. But it was also another time around. He wasn’t married yet, but Elizabeth was probably out there somewhere. Could he really snatch him away from her.?

                John drew in a deep breath. What really mattered was to reform the friendship they had once had together. What mattered was having those eyes in his life. And then, after that… well, he would just have to see how things would go.

               oOo

                “So you’re John’s roommate?” As soon as Alexander had arrived a relieved look had washed over John’s face and the man next to him and given John a knowing look, giving him a pat on the shoulder. The man was sturdily built, with a bandana tied around his head, and although he stood up plenty tall there were stubborn bags under his eyes betraying what John had told him about the lack of sleep his roommate was able to get.

                “Hercules Sanders.” He nodded in Alexanders direction, but Hercules’ eyes went over to his roommate instead, who just shrugged his shoulders at some inside joke the two shared.

                “Do you have any ideas in what you want to do with your life?” Alexander asked, doing his best drink his coffee without scalding the inside of his mouth.

                “Oh, I know what I’m doing with my life.” He said it with such conviction Alexander couldn’t help to be surprised. Heaven knows that most students are clueless for at least their first year of college.

                “Really?” And the man gave a resolute nod.

                “Absolutely. I’m going to become a fashion designer.” Alexander looked the man over. To be honest, fashion designer was probably one of the last things he would think such a burly man would want to do. “I can show you some of my sketches if you like.” Hercules had pulled out a notebook and scooted his chair to be closer to Alexander, flipping through it and emphatically mentioning each outfit and design with excitement.

                Alexander did his best to keep up, although he would be the first to admit he didn’t know that much about clothing. He did his best to mention what parts of the designs he liked, and did his best not to question any of the more… out there designs (the ones labeled Avant-garde). It took Alexander probably far too long to realize that John had also moved his chair so now they were all crowded on one side of the table, discussing whether or not a particular dress would look better with buttons in the front or going down the back.

                Alexander couldn’t help as a smile full of pure happiness came onto his face. It just felt just right. He was sure that this was where he was meant to be. After a while the pages became filled with pieces that seemed reminiscent of fashion from the revolutionary war, and while most of them kept Hercules’ signature style to them there were a few designs that didn’t quite match his handwriting.

                “What are all of these?” Alexander asked, tracing over a white dress with buttons dotting down the side.

                “These are my children.” John gave Alexander a look that said _just go with it._ “For my final I need to come up with a collection, and I’ve been planning on redesigning colonial styles and Revolutionary war uniforms into modern looks.”

                “That actually sounds pretty awesome.” Hercules’ sketches had featureless girls, but the ones done with lighter lines had definitive faces and hairdo’s to match with the outfits. “Who did these?”

                “Our class’ TA is helping me with some of the designs.” Scrawled on inside portion of one of the skirts was a flourished signature. Like any good signature, it was almost impossible to read.

                “You didn’t mention that to me.” John said, his voice full of mock offense.

                “Maybe I would if you would do something besides complain out holding your arms out for so long when I use you as a model.”

                “Oh! That’s the project you had to help him with!” Alexander slammed his fist on his hand.

                “Yeah. Herc says that having a live figure can help to envision how the fit will actually work on a person. And it does requite me sticking my arms out for longer than anyone should ever have to.”

“Heh, I would imagine.”

“Don’t you start looking smug now, Alexander, it’s only a matter of time before Herc insists you help him out as well.” John said, accusingly point at Alexander.

“The price I must pay for friendship.” It felt just right.

 oOo

“Sir?” Professor George Custis looked up from the papers he was appraising to see a speckled face.

“Ah, John, what is it son?” The boy smiled and reached into his bag.

“I just wanted to give this back to you. I really did find it incredibly interesting.” His book, of course.

“I’m glad to hear you enjoy it. I find it rather interesting, but you know I find everything about the revolution to be eye catching.” John nodded, and paused. George knew that look, the boy had something to say.

“Is there anything you wanted to talk about?” Logically, continuing a conversation wouldn’t be good, that headache was building up behind his eyes again,  but his students would always take priority for George.

“Not really sir.” Another pause. “I have to say, one of my favorite parts of the revolutionary war is the crossing of the Delaware.” George had to resist the urge to raise an eyebrow at almost irrelevant subject change. “You have to wonder how General Washington felt that night. It must have been so cold.” A shiver ran up his spine. “Was he confident, nervous? What do you think the General was thinking sir?”

“I think…” He was doing his best to choose his words carefully, but the darned headache was increasing in force and making it hard for him to articulate his thoughts. “General Washington was probably very scared, more scared than he would let anyone know.” George closed his eyes, and he could almost swear he could envision what it was like on that night. “It would have been so cold, but among the tangle of emotions and thoughts there would have been a feeling of… not quite excitement, but something similar. The feeling that this would mark the end of the war, whether that was losing or winning.” One of his hands came up to massage his temple.

“T-thank you sir.” By the time George opened his eyes (it took a surprisingly large effort) John was out of the classroom. He glanced down at the book and placed it off to the side along with the papers he had been looking at. His brain was a mess of images and emotions, conflicting against each other harshly.

He needed a nap and some pain killers, he was probably just sleep deprived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so, I have some rules when it comes to ships. I do my best to respect anything confirmed canon. that being said I was doing some brief research and was surprised to have it confirmed that Laurens and Hamilton did flirt often over letters during the war. So I just want to be clear that it is extremely unlikely that they will become anything other than friends, as that is the impression I always got from them when listening to the soundtrack. I really don't want to focus on romance in this story, I want it to be about their friendships, although I will admit I might lean towards Eliza/Hamilton (they did get married) but I feel like I should just tell you guys my stance, if that makes sense? please talk to me if you have any comments, want to talk, or enjoyed the chapter! Thank you for reading!
> 
> -HITEL


	3. There are More of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George Custis misses class and Alexander helps with sewing.

He dreams of tasting death. He dreams of rolling hills and green grass. He dreams of blood soaking through his clothes and staining his skin a deep crimson red, never to come out. There’s a women by his side, and she seems to bring the color of all the world with her. So many faces, smiling faces that know him, that trust him, and he sees each and everyone one of them lying down in the mud with looks of frozen horror on their face.

George Custis wakes up at one o’clock from the exact same dream for fifth time since going to bed at eleven. His head pounds like a drum, his thoughts are too tangled for him to function. His nails dig into his skull and tears stream down his face until he inevitably lapses back into sleep and into the dream.

He doesn’t make it to teach his class that day simply because he couldn’t even gather his thoughts together enough to remember that he taught a class.

 oOo

**Group Chat**

**Alexander: That’s weird**

**John: what is?**

**Herc: ?**

**Alexander: My teacher isn’t here today.**

**Herc: Hey, everybody needs a day off sometimes.**

**John: is this a good thing or a bad thing?**

**Alexander: Well, I definitely like him better than any of my other teachers.**

**And I think he wanted to follow up on something with me today.**

**But I’m not sure**

**Herc: Do you have a TA? He might know where your teach is**

**Alexander: Yeah, but he’s an idiot and I’d rather not talk to him.**

**John: Which class is it?**

**Alexander: US History**

**John:…**

**Herc:?**

**John: Who’s your teacher?**

**Alexander: Custis. Well, he prefers we call him George.**

**John:…**

**Herc: Yo, what’s up? Do you know something?**

**John:…**

**Herc: You didn’t murder him, did you?**

**John: dear goodness NO**

Alexander frowned at his phone. It was time to bring out his advanced interrogation tactics. But just as his thumbs began typing out an essay worthy string of questions he noticed someone was attempting to gain the attention of the students at the front of the room (well, what students were still here. George was always on time, so him being so late for most kids meant that there was no class today)

Clearly Thomas Skelton, aforementioned TA, believed that the show must go on whether or not the ‘General’ was there to orchestrate it.

“Okay, sit down there kiddos.” Thomas was motioning with his hands for them to take their seat. Obviously it didn’t matter to him that probably half the people here were older than him. Alexander narrowed his eyes, trying to decide whether he should attempt to sit through whatever Thomas thought constituted a decent lesson, or get up and leave just be a bother.

It really didn’t take him long to decide.

“Alexander, class is still in session.” Thomas’ voice was like nails on chalkboard.

“Oh, something just came up, I have to leave.”

“Really, what is it?”

“Extremely urgent, I assure you.” Alexander nodded, then took his own pulse. “Yes, it appears I am dying from breathing the same air as you.”

“Alexander, I do have the ability to fail you.” That only made Alexander raise an eyebrow.

“Not really. I’m sure when I explain to George that I was going blind from the vibrant shade of purple you have chosen to wear today he’ll understand.” By now Thomas was fuming.

Alexander could feel Thomas’ eyes boring into his back as he walked out of the room, but he took some guilty pleasure in knowing that he couldn’t really say anything about it since George always made it very clear that anyone could leave the class at any time for any reason.

**Alexander: what are you guys up to?**

**Herc: Sewing with some of my friends**

**Alexander: Some of the things you say amaze me**

**Herc: I do try**

**Alexander: Do you guys need another hand? Ditching school.**

**Herc: You know what, we actually could.**

**Alexander: Yeah, you mind if I come over and hang?**

**Herc: No prob, you know where the place is?**

**Alexander: I think John gave me the address not long ago.**

**Herc: Cool, see you in a bit**

 oOo

John could feel his phone vibrating, but couldn’t bring himself to look at it. What to do, what to do. He had been waiting for so long for some sort of a sign that one of the others would begin to remember, but now that there was a chance that the General was going to start the (admittedly rough) process of remembering… he wasn’t really sure how to handle it.

How much did he remember? How long would it take for him to get orientated? Should he visit him before or after that? And he had so much more life to go through than John had had. How much longer would it take? Even worse what if this was just a false alarm and he had the flu or something? People did get the flu occasionally, he could be freaking out for nothing. But yesterday he had thought he had seen a little piece of the General’s memories fighting their way back up.

John steeled himself and pressed the doorbell to George Custis’ house.

 oOo

*Ding Dong*

Alexander rocked slightly on his heels as he heard commotion from the behind the door, before finally he saw the grinning and familiar face of Hercules, a beanie on his head and one hand carefully wielding a needle.

“You actually came!” He appraised with his booming voice, and probably would have hugged Alexander if he wasn’t trying to avoid sticking someone with a needle today.

“Hey, I said I would.” Alexander grinned back.

“This is great, I’m pretty sure Fayette needs another hand.” Hercules ushered him in, and Alexander couldn’t help but to take a minute to soak in the room.

It was actually cleaner than he would have thought, and bigger. ‘It must cost a fortune’ he absentmindedly thought to himself, recalling once again that Hercules worked about 24/7. There was a living room, a door probably leading towards their beds, and a small kitchen. There were several different mannequins standing up around the room, each one of them bearing different outfits and dresses in different stages of completion.

Crouched next to one of them a man was meticulously hand sewing details on the train of a long, flowing dress, his bouncy dark hair pulled away from his face as he examined each stitch with a critical eye. After a second he cut off the string, rubbed his thumb over some of the material and then stood up to his full height.

“You must be my new helper.” Alexanders’ eyebrows shot up at his thick French accent as he came over to them.

“Yeah, this is the stray tom cat John found, Alexander.” Hercules affectionately patted Alexanders’ shoulder.

“Ah, I am La Fayette.” Alexander balked, not really sure why. Lafayette. That name, he had heard that name somewhere before…

“Hmph, yeah, La Fayette.” Hercules nudged Alexander. “His first name’s too hard to pronounce, so the class just took to calling his Fayette. After he sewed an entire dress in thirty minutes we started to refer to him as The Fayette. I’m sure you see the connection.” Alexander nodded, still having difficulty speaking for some reason.

“You’re Herc’s TA?”

“That would be me.”

                “Then this is your project?” Alexander turned to Hercules, gesturing to the room. “Lots of buttons I see.”

                “Buttons were all the rage in 1776.” Herc said, and went to one of the other outfits, sewing buttons on a long coat that looks like a trench coat and a revolutionary war uniform had married.

                “You can help me holding some fabric on the mannequin while I sew, I only have to hands and can’t quite keep it all stable.” Fayette ushered Alexander over back to the dress he had been working on.

                “How’s this?”

                “Perfect.”

                Alexanders’ afternoon became a biography on Fayette’s life in France, moving to America a few years back, and his adventures in the East Coast. Apparently designing clothing had been a long term passion of his, and him and Hercules had hit it off together early on in the school year. Since Hercules was (apparently) fluent in French after taking it for three years in High School for scholarship purposes. Every now and then Hercules would butt in with different additions to the story, and somehow the conversation dissolved into Alexander explaining how he was hoping to make a lasting impression on the world with the time he had.

                Alexander couldn’t help but to think that there was something nostalgic about it all.

 oOo

 

                Pain. It hurt. It hurt so much. His skull was going to split open. Late night dinner-and-a-movie dates conflicting with walking down dirt roads arm in arm with girls.  He studied history. He studied war tactics. He cared for his students. His men were like the children he could never have.

                A hand was on his shoulder. How long had it been there?

                His head jerked up.

                “John.” He breathed the word like a prayer to heaven. He knew this boy, he knew that face that was… He scrunched up his eyes as the memories conflicted.

                “I’m here, sir.” Wait. This had happened before, and not in some far off distant memory.

                “How long…?” He couldn’t quite finish the sentence.

                “It’s eight at night.” George groaned and held his head in his hands. The onslaught of memories had finally begun to retreat.

                “How did you get in?” He asked, finally taking in the fact that he had somehow gotten into his living at some point during the day.

                “You’re code was 1776.” John said, and George suddenly shot up, ramrod stiff.

                “Laurens!”

                “What?” John flinched, startled.

                “Your name, or… your name last time?” He shook his head, trying to clear it.

                “Yeah, that’s going to keep happening.” John nodded. “At least that’s how it went for me. It was like it took about half a day for my brain to take back in everything from last time, but I could only remember broad events. Then little things would fall into place.”

                “I teach US History.” He said dumbly. “Of all the things I could have chosen to do, I decided to teach US History. Me. The First President of the United States. There’s some irony here.”

                “Yeah, trust me, I noticed.” John said with a smile on his face. George was getting better already.

                “How long have you remembered?”

                “About a month or so now.” George let out a whistle.

                “And you’ve kept it to yourself?”

                “Why wouldn’t I? For all I knew I was just being crazy. Most people don’t wake up one day and think they were in the Revolutionary War.” George nodded.

                “I see your point. I doubt I can go into my class on Monday and say I’m George Washington.”

                “Besides, I don’t think any of the others remember yet either. Although every now and then I swear Hercules will do something and I can just swear I can see the Mulligan in him.”

                “Oh. Alexander Hamilton is one of my students.” John gave an assuring nod.

                “Then I’m not crazy, it has to be him.”

                “What are the odds that we would all end up in the same College town?” They both shared a small laugh, not necessarily because anything was humorous, but because of the absurdity of the situation. In his pocket John felt his phone vibrate.

                **Alexander: Thanks again for having me over, Herc.**

**Herc: Not a problem, Fayette enjoyed having someone new to impress.**

**Alexander: I now understand the pain in holding one’s arms out for an hour**

**Herc: :)**

**Alexander: speaking of, where is John?**

**John: Sorry, something came up today**

**Alexander: He LIIIIVVVVEEEEESSSSS!!!!!**

“Sorry Sir, I should probably get back to my apartment soon. Mulligan insists on having having me in loco parentis. I practically have a curfew. You probably need some time to sort your memories out anyway.”

                “Of course.” George responded, fingering the place where his wedding ring used to sit.

                “I’ll come by tomorrow.” John assured. “It’s going to be nice to have someone to talk to about this.”

                “Oh, and Laurens?” John paused, turning to face his General. “Thank you.”

                “I know what it’s like to go through it alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this was more or less filler. It's kind of like setting the stage for future stuff, frantically introducing characters. Not as much fun to read, but sadly necessary. Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> -HITEL


	4. A Stroll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Laid back chapter of John and Alexander talking feat. me thinking too much about these dresses that don't actually exist

                “Hmmm, I don’t know. I feel like a sweetheart neckline would work better than the v-neck.” It was Saturday, and Alexander had come back to John and Herc’s apartment for a second day of assisting with Herc’s project. John was here today, although he refused to elaborate what he had been up to yesterday. The four of them had moved into the kitchen and were all perched around the counter where Herc and Fayette were sketching different design ideas, all four of them bouncing off different ideas.

                “Okay, but what if instead you had fabric crisscrossing over the front like this.” John leaned over and lightly sketched out the path of the fabric.

                “That could work,” Fayette said, eyeing  the dress. “…except I feel like we’re close to losing its’ resemblance to the 1780’s.”

                “Unless we make the Bodice come down like this and made the skirt slimmer but still maintain the two tiers of ruffles.” Herc drew the details in. Alexander didn’t really know enough about late 1700’s to have much input, but for once he was okay with not having a very strong opinion. He did occasionally pipe up, but for the most part he enjoyed seeing the three boys collaborate.

                “Wait.” Alexander held up a finger. “What if instead of the skirt you had a pair of shorts that go up to just below the belly button.” Alexander didn’t have a pencil, mostly because he couldn’t draw worth crap, but John leaned over and sketched out the idea.

                “I think I see what you are saying.” Fayette said, examining the idea. “It maintains the bodice look to the top, and with a few different designs added to the pants-“

                “-It’ll look kinda like both a dress and a revolutionary war uniform. Or at least the idea of them.” Herc finished with a triumphant smile, adjusting his beanie.

                “Perfect!” Fayette clapped his hands together. “We just need to get some materials.”

                “What are we supposed to do while you guys are out?” John complained, and Alexander shot him a confused look. “They can take up to five or six hours deciding on fabrics.” He explained.

                “We will not take that long this time, mon ami.” Fayette said. “I know exactly what fabric we will be needing.”

                “You guys can go out and grab some coffee’s or something. Pick up some snacks.” Herc threw Alexander a grin. “Sorry tom cat, looks like you’re stuck with this project for the long haul.”

                “You know, I don’t think I mind. I need to head back to my apartment and grab my laptop anyway.” Herc grabbed some stuff, locked the door to the apartment behind them.

                “We’ll see you guys in a bit.” Herc said as him and Fayette started on their way.

                “Do you want to grab your laptop first or get the snacks?” John asked, leaning against the railing.

                “Let’s grab the laptop. It has most of my stuff on it, I figured that when Fayette and Herc don’t need me I can work on some other stuff.”

                “Sounds good to me, lead the way.” John swept his arms out. “So you like writing?” John asked as they started walking.

                “What?”

                “I mean, I mean I assume you would enjoy writing. I figure you type a lot, since you want your laptop, and a lot of people type… on laptops…” John scratched the back of his head. Yeah, way smooth.

                “No it’s fine. I actually really do love to write. That’s how I picked up most of my scholarships – by submitting writing and stuff.” Alexander gave an easy grin.

                “What kind of stuff do you write?” John asked. (John already knew)

                “Well, I run a blog full of opinions – back in my hometown it was featured on our local news channel which was pretty neat. This might sound weird but I also do some poetry – but I prefer to write it, not type it.” He reached into his back pocket and procured a small moleskin journal slightly bigger than his palm. “I carry it around pretty much everywhere. There’s even a little spot for a pencil along the binding.” He held it up with pride, practically beaming as he showed John the minute pencil.

                “I didn’t even know they made Swiss Army notebooks. Does the bookmark double as a bottle opener?” Alexander chuckled.

                “I found it at a thrift store in a pile full of notebooks, it felt like I had just found the Holy Grail.”

                “Oh! I was meaning to tell you, I think I know what I want to do!”

                “What you want to do with what?”

                “What I want to do with my life! After college.” Alexander pocketed the notebook.

                “Wait, really? What were you thinking?”

                “Medicine. I’m not sure yet exactly what part of that, but I think I want to be a doctor or something.” It had come to John the other day when he was looking over class options. His eyes can landed on the words ‘Medical Classes’. A strong desire to make a difference in the world, to better people’s lives by helping them through sickness. A faceless man (a part of him knew it was his father) rejecting even the concept of it. He would be a politician, and that was the end of the matter. But the faceless father wasn’t in control of him anymore, hadn’t been for two hundred some-odd years.

                “That’s awesome John.” Alexander walked up to a door. “Any reason why?” He pulled the carabineer with his keys jangling on it off of his belt loop and opened the door. “I’ll be just a second, you can come in if you like.”

                “Well, I guess I’m a little like you.” John said as he cautiously walked through the doorway. “I want to make a difference.” Alexander had a myriad of items lying around his small apartment, and it didn’t take him long to snatch up the laptop on the bedside table and to stuff it into a backpack.

                “I know what you mean. I want to leave something behind, I want someone to look at the world and be able to see my fingerprints where I helped to mold it. I want a legacy.”

                “You have one.” John whispered, almost without realizing it.

                “Hm?” Alexander looked up from where he was grabbing some binders. “Did you say something.”

                “It’s nothing. Let’s go get the snacks.”

 

                “I can’t believe you.” Alexander muttered. “I. Cannot. Believe you, John.” He shook his head.

                “This happens to people all the time!” John said defensively, holding his palms up as much as he could while still holding the two bags of groceries.

                “Exactly, you led me to believe you were stronger than the average man.”

                “I just forgot my room keys, it’s not that big of a deal.” Alexander rolled his eyes, but he had a smile on his face.

                “Oh sure. You’re just lucky that the weather’s so good today.” Alexander leaned back on the railing that faced the locked door, tilting his head back and soaking in the sun. “Man, it must almost be noon. They still aren’t back yet? With how much we were dragging out feet debating cool ranch Doritos or pretzels I would’ve thought Herc and Fayette would have beaten us for sure.”

                “I told you, I can practically see them both holding fabric that looks and feels almost exactly the same and trying to decide which one is better. Anyway, I’m gonna try and get in.”John moved towards the door.

                “What do you mean? Alexander opened his eyes and straightened up. “I thought that you didn’t have the keys?”

                “Does it count as breaking in if it’s my own apartment?”

                “What?!” John was crouched in front of the lock, had pulled a bobby pin out of his hair (released in a few curls that were too short to get into his ponytail) and was fiddling with it.

                “Just give me a second, I’m sure I can remember…”

                “How do you even know how to do this?”

                “It was this or break the windows. To be honest, it’s actually Herc’s fault. He kind of has a thing about knowing that I can get myself out of any situation. Again, he’s one of my best friends but he seems determined to be my acting parent as long as were sharing a room.”

                “…that’s actually pretty neat.”

                “I’m sure he’ll end up teaching you a bunch of irrelevant things too. You are part of our group now.” Alexander smiled. He liked the sound of that. Being there with the three of them felt right.

                “You making any headway?” Alexander tried to lean so that he could see what John was doing, but it was hard.

                “I thought you knew how to get through lock anyway.” John said, still focusing on the bobbypin.

                “When did I ever tell you that?” John froze for a second.

                “S-sorry. I was thinking of someone else.”

                “It’s fine, it’s easy to get people mixed up sometimes. ‘Sides, Herc mentioned you were up late last night, so you’re probably tired too.” John reflected back to last night. He had been texting George, trying to match up what they knew about what was going on and who they knew from their last time around that they had run into so far.

                “Just had a lot of things to think about yesterday.”

                “Is this about the mystery event that was more important than helping Fayette choose a color of thread? The one you continue to avoid talking about?”

                “That would be the one.” John confirmed. There was a small clicking sound. “Got it.” John stood and stretched out his back, letting loose a yawn. John opened the door and grabbed his plastic bags, and Alexander turned to follow him, but movement in the corner of his eye attracted his attention. Down on the other side of the complex a man with a duffle bag sized up one of the doors. Alexander’s hand flew up to his chest, resting right between his ribs, a phantom pain taking hold.

                “Are you okay Alexander?” He shook his head and adjusted the straps of his backpack.

                “Yeah, sorry John, I’m fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I know it's not the most exciting chapter, but I want to take the next few chapters to build up the relationship of the hamilsquad. Oh, hey, if any of you have ideas for stuff you think would be neat to happen in this fic feel free to mention it :3
> 
>  
> 
> -HITEL


	5. Someone Looking Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The oldest Skyler sister requests assistance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it ever sounds like I don't know what it's like to be a college students it's probably because I don't.

                “My oh my, aren’t you a pretty little thing?” The man leaned over to the girl, reaching his hand out to brush her face, but she swatted away his hand.

                “Go away.” Her voice was full of lead and steel.

                “Come on Babe.” The boy whine, coming even closer, to the point that he was almost on top of her. She let out a small gasp, took a step back, and felt the cold wall behind her.

                “No place to go.” The man murmured, and his hand snatched her neck, a painful breath escaping her. He wasn’t choking her, not yet. “You’re all mine.”

                “Hey!” The word echoed through the cold night air, and the shadow of a figure appeared.

                “Stay out of this!” The man yelled, his hand still having a vie-like grip on the girl’s neck, but his attention wasn’t focused on her anymore at the moment. Slow enough that the man wouldn’t turn his head back to her, the girl reached down and slowly took off one of her shoes. Then, in a blaze of adrenaline she hit the man’s wrist with the heel and watched as he recoiled back in pain.

                The man muttered curses under his breath as he turned fury filled eyes on the girl. He raised a hand to hit her, but instead…

                “You stay away from that girl!” The other man rushed up behind him and whipped the man around, landing a solid hit on his nose, a morbidly satisfying crunch sounding.

                “What th-“

                “I don’t want to see you around here. If I even _think_ I see you I will find you.” Frantic nodding. “Now I believe you have a broken wrist and nose. You might want to take care of that.” The man scurried off into the night. “Are you alright, ma’am?” The man turned, and froze.

                “Yes, thank you. I’m sorry, he caught me off guard.” The man’s eyes looked far off, and the woman shifted under the unnerving gaze. “My name’s Eliza Skyler.” The man blinked a few times and shook his head.

                “Oh, I’m George Custis, I’m a professor down at the College.” The girl nodded. He hands were shaking. “What are you doing out so late?”

                “My sister set me up on a blind date – that’s why I’m wearing heels – but it didn’t go very well so I decided to leave. I was just going to walk home but that man…” George could fill in the rest. He knew this girl, this women. A few pieces had fallen into place when he had seen her face, the most prominent one being a hand written letter, in careful cursive, informing General Washington (for that’s who he had been) that she was pregnant.

                “I can walk you home if you’d like.” George offered.

                “I would actually really appreciate that. Angelica could probably handle herself but I’ve never been quite as bold as her.” George nodded, smiling easily.

                “Feel free to lead the way.”

                “So what do you teach?”  Eliza asked as she fitted her show back onto her foot.

                “I teach US History. It’s something I’ve been passionate about for most of my life.” He gave a small chuckle. “Especially the Revolutionary War, it always captured me in it’s stories.”

                “Interesting. I think I would like to be a teacher for elementary school kids. “ George looked at her, and nodded.

                “I think you would get along great with children.” Eliza beamed.

                “You really think so?”

                “I know it.” He threw her a smile.

                The pair of them made good and Eliza made it to her house without any more incidents, and as they approached the door she thanked George for his assistance. He nodded, and withheld himself from mentioning Alexander. There was no way she remembered. Her eyes shined too brightly, too innocently. They did not hold the weight of another life that George could see in the mirror or every time he saw Laurens.

                One of her sisters met her at the door and ushered her in, waved goodbye to George, and shut the door – Peggy if George was recalling correctly.

                “Eliza, are you okay?” Peggy looked her older sister up and down. There was a red mark on her neck, but other than that she appeared fine. “Why did that man walk you home?” Eliza looked off to the side.

                “Well…” She explained what had happened, and Peggy gave her sister a warm hug.

                “I know, let’s make some cookie dough and watch a movie.” Peggy said, squeezing Eliza’s hand.

                “Thanks Peggy.”

oOo

                “Are you Professor Custis?” George looked up to see a girl, full of confidence, standing over him, both hands on her hips, a mane of midnight framing her face.

                “I’m sorry, are you in one of my classes?” Her face was tugging at his brain, and over the past few days he had come to the realization that it was incredibly hard to discern whether a memory was from last time around or this time around until it fully surfaced.

                “My name’s Angelica Skyler,” Ah, there it was. He vaguely remembered her from Alexander’s wedding. The memory finally came free – a brief conversation about nothing more important than the weather. “-the other day you assisted my younger sister Eliza home.” He nodded, and searched her eyes for a second. No- it wasn’t there either. No recognition for him. Him and Laurens had talked, and they agreed that they weren’t fully aware of what was going on, and that if it was so painful to remember things when they took their time, attempting to force anyone to remember would probably be even worse.

                “I remember.” He said, nodding, and Angelica continued.

                “I wanted to say thank you, but more than that, I need your help.” George raised an eyebrow, and he could feel his back straighten, could almost sense the father in him (little children running around the house and just the need to protect them) coming out of him. Angelica took another breath.

                “That wasn’t the first time that kind of thing has happened to one of my sisters.” George’s eyes widened. “I’ve always been with my sisters, so I’ve been able to protect them, but my new job takes me out of town more often than I would like. That was the first time she’s had to walk home alone. Eliza has another date later this week, and I was hoping you could… watch her.” He raised on of his eyebrows.

                “You want me to stalk your sister on her date?”

                “Yes.” Angelica gave a resolute nod.

                “I’m sorry, but I probably shouldn’t.” For the first time Angelica looked uncertain. “But,” George inserted quickly. “…I do know some boys who would be willing to help you out. I doubt your sister wants an old man following her around.” He grabbed a sticky note and jotted down the number for John’s apartment.

                “Thank you, sir, this really means a lot to me. I care about my sisters more than I care about anything else in the entire world.” She took the sticky note and carefully folded it and popped it behind her phone case.

                “No problem Ms. Skyler.”

 oOo

                “Hello?” Hercules’ gruff voice muttered between the pins in his mouth.

                “Hello, My name’s Angelica. Professor Custis said that I could call this number for help.” Herc raised an eyebrow and covered the receiver.

                “Hey, do we know a Professor Custis?” John’s head snapped up. Fayette and Alexander were too deep in a conversation about recent attacks on France and what would be the best way to deal with it to hear his question.

                “I do, why? Is he on the phone.” John made a movement to reach for the phone, but Herc moved it out of his reach.

                “No, it’s someone else. A girl. She said Custis gave her our number to help her out with something.”

                “Oh, well, what does she want?” John asked, turning back to some work he had for one of his classes.

                “Hold on a minute.” He brought the phone back up to his face. “Hello, sorry, just talking to one of roommates. What is it you need help with.”

                “My name’s Angelica and I have two younger sisters. I’m usually always there for them, but recently my job has taken me out of town a lot. They’ve run into some problems when they walk home, especially when they’re alone.” Angelica described what had happened to her sister, Eliza, a few nights ago. “If Custis hadn’t been there, well… I was hoping you and maybe your friends would be willing to kind of… follow her on her date. Just to make sure she gets home safely. I usually walk them home, but I just can’t right now.”

                “Um, give me one second.” He covered the receiver again. “Hey, guys.” Alexander and Fayette looked up. “So this girl wants us to help her out with something,” He reiterated what Angelica had said to the others, and La Fayette’s face lit up immediately.

                “Yes! Yes! We shall act as secret vigilante’s in order to protect this young girl!” He loudly declared, springing to his feet.

                “I don’t have any plan for tonight. Professional stalking could be fun.” Alexander gave a shrug. “Do we start following them at her house? And if so what are they doing for dinner?”

                Angelica gave them a few more details, told Herc where their house was, where they would be eating that night, and offered to pay them for their services but Herc stubbornly insisted that in this day and age people shouldn’t even have to worry so much about walking home alone at night and that it would be fun for them regardless and no payment was necessary.

                “What’s her name again?” They were all the a car a house down from their targets, their lights off and talking in whispers even though that probably wouldn’t make much of a difference.

                “Angelica is the older sister, Elizabeth is the one that’s going on the date.” John’s eyes widened slightly. How could he have forgotten Angelica? Bits and pieces of short meeting and greeting crossed his mind. He held a hand up to his temple. A headache was coming on as his brain tried to compensate for small wave of memories, trying to figure out where they fit.

                “Wait, Mulligan-“

                “Sanders.” Herc corrected.

                “Sanders, sorry, don’t  you have work?” John internally berated himself for slipping up again. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Alexander and Fayette exchange a questioning look.

                “I called in sick- wait, here comes a car!” Everyone quieted down as a silver car pulled into the Skyler driveway. It honked.

                “Tacky.” Fayette muttered in the back, and they saw the silhouette of Eliza rushing out of the house and into the car.

                “Showtime!” Herc declared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, one more set up chapter - the next chapter is the date so that should be more enjoyable and entertaining :3 but sadly this chapter simply must come first. Also, I feel like I should tell you that this fic will lean towards Alexander/Eliza. I'm going to try to make it more on the lowdown, but odds are it will come out more than I would like (the final chapter especially) But I still want their friendships and bonds to be the focus. Just thought you should know. Thanks for reading :) 
> 
> -HITEL


	6. We are awesome at drawing wrong colcusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy pops in, special appearance of Thomas, and deep conversations. Honestly, if you have any prompts for things, totally drop a line. Gotta waste enough time so that it's reasonable gap to when others remember

As it turned out, the date went smoothly for a change. Fayettte was on lookout duty and according to him the sister had seemed to enjoy herself and the boy took her home, Alex didn’t even get a glimpse at whoever it was – he was far too engrossed in a debate over whether Olive garden breadsticks or Crazy bread fit parties better.

Hercules declared that while it was a worthy cause, next time he wouldn’t be able to get away from work, so the three of them would have to do it without him – which they all agreed was fair enough. Somehow Alexander’s weeks had turned into spending most of his days at the apartment with Fayette, Herc, and John either helping with sewing or writing essays and articles and whatever he wanted. Bouncing ideas off of the others. It felt so nice. Alexander had never been that close to anyone in his life besides his mother, and once his mother died he had never stayed in one place long enough to make connections. 

While his social life was soaring, by night his nightmares were only getting incredibly worse until he found himself sporting rather amazing bags under his eyes most day. John would always look at him with concern, always seemed to be on the edge of saying something, but would hold his tongue. It puzzled Alexander - John was usually one to speak his mind, to say what he was thinking. 

Alexander had pulled the short straw today,  so he was left with collecting the coffee for the others. Coffee Love was a small shop a little ways down the street, and with the motto ‘throw the tea in the sea’.

Alexander quickly ordered his coffee, not even making eye contact with the cashier as he dug through his shoulder bag trying to locate his wallet. 

“That will be $7.16.” The voice made Alexander pause and his head jerked up to see the girl at the cash register. Her skin was a mocha color, dark hair in two braids. Her eyes looked at him intelligently, and he shuffled uncomfortably under them. He took a peek at her name tag. Peggy. Nope, didn’t ring any bells.

“Have we met before?” The girl was quiet as she looked at him for a moment longer. 

“I don’t know, Alexander, have we?” She looked at him with eyes that made him think of John, and he took a step away from her as a light throb touched his head before quickly dying away. 

“How do you know my name?” Strangely, the girl actually relaxed somewhat after that.

“I’ve seen you come in before is all. I work a lot of shifts. I’m sorry sir, here’s your coffee and your change.” He peered closer at her. The more he thought about it the more familiar she seemed. 

“Are you sure that we haven’t met before. I know your face from somewhere…”But she looked back at Alexander with defiance in her eyes, and he could see something in there, just below the surface, a small fire of fire came into existence, and Alexander couldn’t help but to flinch back slightly at the unexpected hate.

“...I should be going.” He hefted up the coffees, and though he wouldn’t admit it to himself he found himself running away from those eyes. And when he got back to the apartment, he found he couldn’t look at John, couldn’t make contact with those same kind of eyes, because suddenly he had gained a feeling his stomach that he had forgotten something incredibly important.

 

“What are you thinking?! The concept of sticking our noses in Vietnam was never good!” Alexander was standing up, shouting down to where Thomas was standing by the Professor’s desk - the professor in question was just nursing a tea for a headache and was watching on. This was, of course far from the first time this had happened. He supposed that it was vaguely interesting that Alexander and Thomas had switched which positions they were supporting about halfway through.

“So you think that we should have just let them flounder?”

“Not necessarily, but I think that we have plenty of our own problems, and if we intended to go in we should have had a better plan or a better understanding of the situation.”

“Yes, but taking our time could have made the situation even worse than it already was!” Really, to George it was incredibly nostalgic, to the point where currently (assuming they wouldn’t change positions on the matter again, although it wasn’t uncommon for it to happen multiple time during an argument between Alexander and his TA) their discussion reminded him of the argument on the decision whether or not to provide assistance to the French.

It was only when Alexander began to scale one of the tables in an attempt to make his way down to Thomas - something that would surely turn the argument physical - that George determined he needed to step in.

“Okay, that’s enough. We do have a final that we must be prepared to take at the end of this class, so let’s move on, shall we?” Thomas backed down, clearly thinking that George taking the reins equated George taking his side.

“But sir, please, if I can just finish my point.”

“Save it for another day son. Preferably when we are actually discussing that period in US History and Vietnam.”  It was only when alexander flinched at the word son that George recalled the event that forced him to send Alexander home during the Revolutionary war. He had been so sure that he could keep Alexander safe for Eliza without having to send him home, but the event had clearly shown him that Alexander was headstrong enough to do anything regardless of George’s cautions. 

The train of thought caused George to think on the matter of his own family, his own sweet, loving Martha, about the odds of whether or not she had been reincarnated as well. Perhaps she hadn’t regained her memories, or maybe she had and was merely waiting for him somewhere. But the world was a bigger place than he had left it, and it was this meandering idea that was crossing his brain when he realized that the entire class was waiting on him to speak.

“Yes, well, by this time the twelfth president of the United States had taken the stage. Who can name him?” Hands shot into the air and George proceeded with his lesson, back in the present, but from the corner of his eye he could see Alexander fixing him with a stare that George had grown used to when they had worked together - the look like Alexander had a very complicated set of math equations in front of him and was attempting to unravel them.

 

**Group Chat: Alexander, John, Herc, Fayette**

**Alexander: Professor has been really out of it recently**

**Herc: and that concerns you?**

**John: he probably has a lot going on right now**

**Alexander: idk, it’s just**

**Alexander: …**

**Alexander: …**

**Group Chat: Alexander, Herc, The Fayette**

**Alexander: It’s just that his eyes remind me of John**

**Alexander: in a disconcerting way**

**The Fayette: is this your way of telling us you have fallen for John?**

**The Fayette: Or his eyes?**

**Alexander: I don’t mean it in that way**

**Herc: he’s been out of it, huh?**

**Alexander: yeah**

**Herc: Did I ever tell you about the… incident with John a few months back?**

**The Fayette: incident?**

**Alexander: what incident?**

**Herc: I come home from my classes one day and I find John writhing on his bed running a pretty awful fever.**

**Herc: It turned into one of the most painful six hours of my life to date.**

**Herc: I’m not sure what is was he had come down with, but I couldn’t go to work that day, I had to take care of him. One second he would be running a temperature, the next he would be shivering and cold. He would claim that he was starving, but any time I tried to get some food in him he threw it up almost immediately.**

**Herc: we eventually managed to ride it out, but he’s kind been different since then. I think he just had a really tough moment, like when you almost get hit by a car and you go home and rethink your life kind of deal. I bet something like that happened with your Professor, y’know, John would zone out a lot for a while after that, I just figure he was kinda thinking about his life and stuff. Same thing with your professor.**

**The Fayette: That was incredibly deep**

**Alexander: makes sense actually. I still don’t know what happened the day he was gone. Probably something like that happened.**

Alexander put down his phone, turning back the article he was writing. His personal opinions on the current option for the presidential election  **(Imma put this authors not right here, you can have your own headcanons on his opinions, I have mine, and that all we’ve really got to know)** He had mixed feelings on the fact that Thomas had found his political blog a few days ago and had been going on every single post, down to when it started in 2010, and made quips about each opinion. 

One one hand it provided a good distraction, on the other hand it was also rather annoying.

With Herc’s new info, he was mildly concerned for John, and possibly for George. He had a rough childhood, but he didn’t know how he would react to a near death type of experience now. Full of resolution he grabbed his wallet and decided to go and bring John some sort of a treat.

oOo

“I think that there’s some unfairness in all of this.” 

“You mean besides the obvious?” John had started spending some evening at George’s place, talking about the past and helping him grade papers, currently he was going over a few essays while George was fixing something to eat.

“The Schuyler's essentially got to keep their last name.” John complained, slashing a red mark through a sentence.

“I do admit, Custis doesn’t sound quite as right as Washington did for me.” George brought out a stick of celery and began chopping it up.

“Back then everyone called me Laurens for the most part. Being called Manning is strange and makes me uncomfortable.” 

“It is interesting to see how names have become much looser than they used to be.” George commented, grabbing some carrots.

“Do you know how hard it is not to say ‘Hamilton’ everytime I see Alexander?”

“He’s very much the same though. Just today he was in an argument with Thomas and it reminded me so much of my last go around that when I eventually had to stop them I was about a breath away from saying ‘Jefferson, take a walk’.” 

“If there are some constants in life it would be Alexander and Jefferson fighting.” John grinned widely.

“I for one am grateful that they met in my class and not when they were children, I can practically see them getting into fist fights on the playground.”

“The world sure has changed. Our Country is grown.” John looked wistfully out one of the windows. The houses and building sprung into the sky, the setting sun glinting off of windows. George's house was quiet, and John wondered if he had gotten this house, a house crealy meant for a family, because even before he regained his memory he knew he was a father, just perhaps not the father of a country as well as several children.

“You are mistaken, Laurens.” George followed his gaze out the window. “We are still a young nation, We have hardly been around for a blink in history. We have a lot of growing up to do. If there is one thing I am glad to see, is that we are still trying. We have not yet reached our goal, but we are constantly, through trial and error, making our way to forward. We fall, we mess up, but we still get back up again.” He looked at Laurens, right in his eyes.

“Now, dinner is served.” John looked down, and his eyes shot up.

“This is top ramen.”

“Fancy top ramen. With vegetables. And some mysterious meat I found in my freezer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it and don't be afraid to review! Probably not the most action packed chapter, but I have to waste time until I can reasonably force others to remember, so for now we get deep conversations.
> 
> -HITEL

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!
> 
> -HITEL


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